


got my teeth in you

by docklands



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Bottom Harry, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Literature Major Harry, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docklands/pseuds/docklands
Summary: Harry has been best friends with Louis since he can remember. Louis' carefree and nomadic spirit, so very different from Harry's desire for stability, is precisely what makes their dynamic so special. When Louis is brave enough to break the wall between them, they start sleeping together. Harry's thoughts spiral as he's caught up between his newfound feelings, the crushing weight of being a Literature major and the imminent threat of losing Louis forever.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 179





	got my teeth in you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halos_Boat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halos_Boat/gifts).



> Hello! This fic is part of the Secret Larry Valentine 2021 and my prompt was "friends with benefits". My dear valentine is Gia! I hope you like the angst I put into it. It was a pleasure creating something for someone so nice and talented as you.
> 
> All my love,  
> Georgia

“We can’t keep doing this,” Harry whispered to Louis, like he hadn’t texted him first, asking to come over.

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“It’s not about fun,” he retorted, unusually fickle. “You may be off work, but I’ve got finals coming up. I need to focus on other things.” He slid his Flintstones t-shirt over his head, dressing himself to leave.

Louis looked at him from where he was laid down in bed, surrounded by boxes of their takeout. Harry’s body was intertwined with his just a few minutes prior in his tiny bed, but it already felt like a lifetime.

“What kind of things?”

“I’m behind on studying and I have to eat better. We can’t order that crap every time I’m here. I still need to finish reading Norwegian Wood for my paper too. You’ve been distracting me with your…” he gestured vaguely, unsure of what he wanted to say.

“Different kind of wood?” Louis smirked, proud of himself for coming up with a joke he knew Harry would like.

Harry didn’t laugh. He meant Louis’ relentless commitment to living his life with no strings attached, in between jobs, from one hook up to another, misbehaving for days. He sighed heavily, put on his trainers and headed to the door.

“Hey, Haz. Text me?” Louis nearly begged.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Harry left through the door without leaving room for an answer, his footsteps echoing down the stairs like a fading memory.

* * *

“Thought I’d find you here,” Louis chimed in. “Had to hunt you down, since you act like you don’t own a phone.”

Harry jumped having his silence disturbed, “I’m really busy, Lou.”

“What are you reading?”

“Rereading.”

Louis sat down across from him, trying his best not to pester the other students. “You live in the library now. It’s never been this bad. You’ve been argumentative, too. What’s up with you?”

Harry sighed, closing his book. “I’m fine, I promise. Just a lot to do before the semester ends.”

“Why does your grumpy face say otherwise?”

Harry wished he could tell him, he really did. About how his heart ricocheted against his chest cavity every second he was with him, even though it shouldn’t.

“Hungry. Gonna grab a bite before heading home,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, realising he had spent all day there.

He stood up, sliding his many books into his threadbare satchel.

Louis did the same, a little awkward in his haste. “Are you going to Calvin’s get together?”

“No,” he faltered. “I mean, maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

Louis nodded, “I’ll see you, then.”

After shooting him a sad smile, Harry wore his satchel against his chest and shot him a wave. “See you, Lou.”

* * *

“So, is Harry coming or what?” Calvin asked, concentrated on the blunt he was rolling. “He never replied to my texts about the party. Or about anything else, really.”

“He does that,” Louis laughed fondly. “And, I’m not sure. He told me he had to study for Japanese Literature or something,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, right, study on a Saturday. I can’t be arsed,” he scoffed, taking the blunt to his lips. “Gimme a light.”

“He takes uni very seriously, y’know?” Louis’ tone went stern as he reached into his pockets for his lighter. “There’s a reason he earned that scholarship. He’s really fucking smart.”

“Easy, Tommo. No need to shoot daggers at Cal,” Oliver reasoned from the other side of the couch.

“Maybe say something when you lot can roll a proper blunt,” Louis sniggered with a scoff, knowing very well his own skills were unmatched.

Calvin didn’t even look up at him, just rolling his eyes.

“We just think it wouldn’t hurt if Harry took a break every now and then,” Oliver continued. “He’s too hard on himself, don’t you think? I haven't seen him in forever.”

Louis hummed in annoyance, relaxing his back into the couch as Calvin took a deep drag and gave him back his lighter. The smoke that came out of his mouth engulfed the living room, where other people were already either drinking or making out. 

Deep down, Louis knew his friends meant well, of course, but they didn’t know Harry like he did. They didn’t understand how Harry thrived on being top of the class and how he felt the need to honour his scholarship in the name of his mum, who could never afford even one semester of his education. They would never know how many times he had told Louis how badly he wanted to be a teacher either.

Harry was a bit of a perfectionist maniac, but Louis had already learned that was how his brain worked and that he needed that edge of control to keep himself sane. To Calvin and Oliver, however, he was just a bit of a snob who thought he was too good to hang out with them and that it was the reason why he skipped every invitation with a vague excuse.

Either way, Louis fished for his cell phone in his pocket and shot Harry a text, telling him he missed him and that he really should come over, even if just for a tinnie and some chit chat.

The time went by and more and more people started to arrive. Calvin's social circle was a bit impressive, really. The more wasted Louis got, the more he forgot about Harry. Calvin's parties were always his favourites – endless booze, free weed and so many new faces. He loved every second of that boundless freedom, while still being able to go up the stairs and sleep safely if he wanted to. 

“Can you feel your fingertips?!” Calvin screamed at him over the music, eyes blown and red.

“What?”

“Fingers!”

“It lingers?! Yeah, it does!” Louis agreed as he danced, suspecting Calvin was on something else other than just weed.

Louis was happy, that was the thing. The haunting thoughts of all his responsibilities were far away, concealed by the chemical fuzziness in his brain. 

Scrambling to dance his way out of the living room, he made his way to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was hungry too, but there was still some dignity in him that prevented him from hoarding the cheese puffs and getting his fingers orange.

“Harry?!”

“Hi, Lou,” he scratched his head, a little too awkward in his leather trousers and sheer shirt, “I was looking for you, but it got too hot out there. Too many bodies.”

“Shit, sorry!” Louis pulled him in for a brief hug, hoping he wouldn’t mind his sweat. “I completely forgot about checking my phone,” he honestly said, looking him in the eyes, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well, you asked me to,” Harry’s cheeks went a bit pink, “so, I did.”

Louis stared at him, overwhelmed. He knew he was a mess, that his hair looked unruly and that he reeked of weed and liquor. If he knew Harry was planning on showing up, he would have, at least, tried to sober up.

“Why did you decide to wear an ascot?” Louis tittered, looking at the red fabric surrounding Harry’s pretty neck.

“I don’t know. Thought it’d look cool,” Harry cringed at himself.

“It does. Do you want to step outside for a bit?” Louis asked, hopeful that they could talk without the loud music and the several people that were already bumping into them.

“Um. I think I do, actually. Just for a few minutes?” Harry pointed his thumb at the door.

“A few minutes,” Louis nodded, taking him by the hand as he cut their way through the crowd.

The air outside was crisp, a tad too cold for Harry, scantily clad in his sheer shirt. Louis still felt hot enough with the weed and the alcohol in his system, but he thought that it was Harry’s aura that really was warming him up.

“Let’s go sit over there,” he shot his eyebrows at Calvin’s old wooden swing.

Harry followed suit, self conscious that he had taken time to dress up while Louis looked absolutely dashing in a bloody tank top, of all things.

“That’s a very nice backyard,” Harry commented as he noticed the rows of tended flowers. “I didn’t know Calvin had a knack for gardening. I wish I did.”

“He doesn’t,” Louis chuckled, “this is his aunt’s house. She’s travelling for the weekend.”

“And he decided to throw a party while she’s not in town?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

Louis nodded, “You know what Cal’s like.”

“God. I could never. Imagine if someone breaks something.”

They reached the swing and sat down, soaking up the dark sky as they still listened to the hip hop blaring from inside the house, white noise at that point.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t catch your text,” Louis apologised right away.

“It’s alright, Lou.”

“I’m glad you’re here, though. I haven’t seen you since, what? Last week at the library?”

“Yeah, we could barely talk in there.” Harry smiled bitter-sweetly, “Finals kind of sucked me in. You know how I get.”

“Stressed out and a pain in the ass?” Louis nudged his shoulder with his own.

“Hey,” he protested. “But, yes. I needed to get out of my room. Books were everywhere and my back would probably snap in two if I remained in that chair for another second.”

“To unwind for a bit, right? Get things off the ground.”

Harry hummed in agreement, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he rested his entire weight on the swing. Just some fresh air was already making him feel better.

“I’m tired of the inertia of my life,” he confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry thought for a second with a big frown on his face. “Not really,” he decided. “I’m just done with everything. I wish I could get away.”

A beat passed and Louis went over the many sentences he could come up with to offer Harry some solace.

“Do you want to share my blunt with me?” he asked instead, fishing it out from where it was tucked behind his ear. “It’s the last one. Skunk, some pretty good shit. Got it in California last summer.”

“Isn’t that, like, crazy strong?” Harry flinched at how thick the blunt was.

“Well, yeah,” Louis reached for his lighter, “that’s why it’s good.”

Harry raised both of his eyebrows in amusement.

“It was stupid of me to suggest you’d be into it. Never mind,” Louis averted his eyes.

“It’s not that I’m not into it per se. I just don’t think I could.”

“What do you mean?” Louis turned his face to him again, wandering lighter in hand.

“Lou, come on,” Harry clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I don’t think I’d even know how to do it,” he laughed dryly, “I’d probably choke and die.”

“I can teach you,” he suggested. “If you’d like.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up again, slightly surprised Louis didn’t make fun of him.

Louis often joked around with his friends and everybody knew that. It was always good spirited, but he did hold any and everything against them for laughs. He had been the class clown since middle school, Harry remembered it. 

With him, though, he had always been gentle. Caring, too, and docile sounding, so different from his loud remarks and witty scoldings. 

“Sure. It’s not that hard,” he reassured Harry, placing a hand over his thigh. 

Harry’s body subtly jumped at the gesture, but he kept his composure.

“Okay,” he agreed, giggling for reasons beyond his knowledge, wondering what his mum would think if she knew he was about to do drugs.

“So,” Louis scooted closer to him, showcasing the blunt and the lighter, “you just have to learn how to drag it properly.”

“Like a cigarette?”

“Kind of, yeah. The smoke feels different, though. You gotta go slower.”

“Actually, I don’t think I know how to smoke a cigarette either,” Harry scratched his arm, noticing the stupidity in his question.

Louis snorted, but kept his focus. “When the smoke’s in your mouth, you have to keep inhaling. And you can't swallow it,” Louis pointed at him sternly, with the tone of a warning, ”because it will go to waste.”

“Don’t swallow it, alright. I can do that.”

Louis looked down at how Harry’s mouth was tugging on a hidden smile, but he shrugged it off.

“Do you want me to do it first so you can watch?”

And Harry would watch Louis forever, in any scenario, under any circumstances, really. He watched him when they were eleven and Louis convinced him to steal ice cream from his mum’s freezer before lunch. A few years later, when they were in high school, Harry’s eyes were still chaperoning him, religiously keeping track of him while he looked all pretty in that navy blue uniform, Harry unconsciously treasuring every word that came out of his mouth.

Fast forwarding even further, they had had the fortune of staying friends when Harry entered university, his eyes passing on to look up to a grown man, like himself. His best friend, Louis, gorgeous in his week-old scruff, threadbare tank tops and, of course, his same blue eyes, that mirrored Harry’s adoration right back every time.

“Please,” Harry keened. 

At that, Louis put the blunt in his mouth and led his lighter to it, making a conch with his hand to shield it from the wind. 

To his startling, his fingers were shaking a little, uncoordinatedly. He felt like being under a very bright spotlight with how Harry’s owlish eyes were eating him up. He knew he was eager to learn most things and that he enjoyed having someone to learn from more often than not, but this particular look was different from any kind of yearning he had seen in Harry before. It was loaded with expectations, like a gun fired straight into his fragile heart.

Louis clicked the lighter once. Two, three times, and failed to make it work.

“You cold?” Harry asked with a grimace and a worried tone, noticing his trembling.

“A little chilly, yeah,” he lied, forcing his own hands to cooperate.

At his fifth attempt, the flame came alive and lit up the blunt.

Harry observed as Louis took his drag, slowly, puckering his thin lips around it. He puffed once and pointed to his own chest, to signal he was inhaling.

“And don’t swallow it,” Harry reminded him innocently.

If Louis hadn’t gotten high other times before, he probably would have choked at Harry’s comment. Instead, he slowly exhaled, forming a thick cloud of smoke around them. 

It smelled weird, Harry decided, like the bus stop when they were younger. It was oddly nostalgic too, to be trying something brand new with his oldest friend.

“Do you think you can do it?” Louis handed him the lit up blunt carefully.

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he reinforced.

“I want to. Gimme,” Harry retrieved the blunt from Louis’ hands in a flash.

He looked down at it, a bit spellbound by the fire. The silk beneath his fingertips was soft and thin, like a coffee shop receipt. 

“Puff once and not too much. Just a small hit,” Louis mimicked the motion. “It’s easier than it looks, I promise,” he smiled.

Without thinking twice, Harry took it to his lips and took a really long drag. He wasn’t in a hurry at all, closing his eyes, even. Beside Louis, he felt invincible.

He started to push it to his lungs, little by little, as his watery eyes were locked into Louis’ worried ones.

“That’s good, love,” he said, less concerned. “I think you’ve got it.”

Maybe, Louis jinxed it. Or, maybe, Harry was still the same clumsiness with a pair of legs that he had always been. Either way, he started to cough violently.

Louis cursed under his breath, stoking Harry’s back as he got it out.

“Not for you, then?” he offered him a compassionate smile.

“Jesus, fuck,” Harry panted a bit, with his hands on his knees.

“That was one big hit you took there. Should’ve hit a little less.”

Harry grunted in annoyance.

“That has always been your problem, y’know?” Louis said.

“Not knowing how to smoke marijuana?” Harry scoffed, still out of breath.

“Being too ambitious,” Louis deadpanned as he stole the blunt back. “You think you’re an overachiever, but you’re just a rule breaker, Harry Styles,” he drew some smoke and let it out. “You’re a bad boy.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. He blinked a few times, thinking to himself.

“Do you think you could do it for me?” he suggested in an impulse.

“Break rules for you?” Louis smiled warm-heartedly. “Haven’t I always?”

“Yes,” Harry guffawed. “But I meant the smoke,” he pointed to the blunt. 

“You trying to shotgun with me, Styles?” Louis mocked, lacing an arm around his shoulders. 

“Is that what you call it, shotgun? Why?”

“A historical fact you don’t know! Could this be my chance to shine?” Louis beamed theatrically.

Harry pushed his hip teasingly, “Louis, come on.”

“They used to do it in Vietnam. Soldiers would put some Mary Jane into the open chamber of a gun,” he gesticulated quickly, like he usually did, “well, a shotgun.”

“Then, what?” Harry was skeptical. “Blow it into each other’s faces?!”

“Precisely, love. Savvy, ain’t it?” he took another drag, already feeling his blood pressure drop. 

“Very,” Harry agreed cautiously.

“So?” Louis prompted. “Blunt won’t burn forever.”

“I want to do it.”

“It still won’t work if you don’t inhale slowly, though.”

“But I’ll have you. To help me with the right amount of smoke, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Louis considered, “but why are you so invested?”

“I want to get high. And you’re going to help me.”

Louis was surprised at his newfound enthusiasm, happy to indulge it, “Your call.” 

“Just tell me what I have to do.”

“And you’ll do it?”

Harry nodded, scooting even closer to Louis so their sides were glued to one another.

“Just stand still. And do not swallow,” Louis enunciated with emphasis. 

“I won’t,” he promised. 

Once again, Louis took the blunt to his lips, taking a quicker drag than before.

Harry watched as he pulled away, trying to keep his own knees from shaking. 

Slowly, but surely, Louis cradled Harry’s jaw and tilted his face slightly up. His curly hair was glueing to his cheeks, but Louis had bigger worries in mind, like how plump and virginal his lips looked.

Harry shivered at the cold fingertips and opened his mouth, unsure of what role he was playing there.

He had seen Louis like that before – dangerously close to his blue eyes, thick eyelashes and crimson lips. Still, his stomach was churning with nerves and a part of him was screaming this was a bad idea.

Before he could ponder it, Louis’ mouth was already mere inches away from his own. It opened in a perfect ‘O’ and the smoke began to flow out.

It started to float into Harry’s mouth in small clouds, one after the other. He took it all in and had to remind himself not to swallow. It all passed from Louis’ mouth to his and, then, it was over, just as quickly as it had begun.

“Inhale,” Louis instructed in a low voice, placing his pointer finger over Harry’s lips.

The amount of smoke wasn’t as overwhelming as before, Harry realised as he started to push it to his lungs. He stared at Louis the entire time, so eager to be good for him and to get it right.

“You can close your eyes,” Louis suggested, like he was reading into his thoughts, “really concentrate on it. I’m here.”

He complied, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs as he tried to breathe through his nose. It was a pleasant experience, both of control and of lack of it, having Louis to lead him the way.

“Good,” Louis said. “Exhale when you’re done.”

Harry panicked a bit. His head felt light and he wasn’t sure how to breathe the smoke back out.

At the edge of his uncertainty, he reached out for Louis’ knee, as if to steady himself. 

“Come on, now,” Louis ushered him to it. “You’re doing fine,” he chuckled, “this is weed, not a Literature exam.”

So, Harry opened his mouth and started to exhale.

A big cloud of heavy smoke came out, surrounding the both of them like a bubble. 

Harry licked his dry lips unconsciously, tightening the grip on Louis’ knee. 

“Is it possible I already feel dizzy?” 

“Yeah, can be. Like I said, this is a bit stronger than usual,” Louis glanced down at the burning blunt in his hands, a little high himself.

“Do it again?”

“On you?” Louis shot him an amused look.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out. “I think I like it.”

“What, weed?” Louis laughed, actually entertained.

“No. That too. But I like when you take the lead of things.” His sentence was vague and alluded to too many situations at once. He looked up at the sky, where sprinkled stars were reflecting his plenitude.

“It makes me feel safe,” he added. “I don’t have to worry about anything for a change.”

Louis felt a goosebump run through his spine. He adored Harry and his candidness, his sheer emotional intelligence and self awareness. It was during moments like in which he felt like a teenager again, that the universe just fell into place. Harry’s eyes were a bit red at that point, his little blood vessels starking his green irises like lightning bolts.

“Do you trust me?” Louis asked him, moving a stubborn curl out of his forehead.

“Always.”

Without explaining himself, Louis took another last drag from the blunt, nearly finished between his fingers. Then, he put it out on the swing, tossing it across Calvin’s fence. 

This time, Harry’s mouth was already ajar. 

Louis’ hand gripped the back of Harry’s hair, pressing his lips onto his own.

Like he was a sugar cube in water, Harry dissolved under his fingertips, holding a whine in the back of his throat. He wanted to close his eyes, but his habit of watching Louis wouldn’t let him.

Louis breathed into his mouth, passing him the smoke. Their lips were still joined, slippery and soft. Harry could taste the tequila on Louis' mouth, still warm and sour.

As if it was nothing, Louis pulled back. “Inhale,” he instructed once again. “There’s more smoke this time. Take your time.”

Nodding, Harry could tell he was right. Little by little, he inhaled, already more comfortable with the weight of the smoke and with how lightheaded it was making him feel.

“Good?” Louis asked.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed it out. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a little woozy.”

Louis laughed at him, “You’re a lightweight.”

Ignoring his remark, Harry just looked up at the sky. He felt like laughing and the hard wooden swing felt incredibly comfortable all of a sudden.

“What’s on your mind?” Louis asked.

“You know what,” Harry looked at him as he giggled, “don’t pretend you don’t.”

“I really don’t,” he lied again. “Try me.”

“Lou... I thought I told you we shouldn’t do this anymore,” Harry sighed. “It’s confusing for me.”

“I didn’t even kiss you. It was just shotgunning.”

“Was it, though?” he teased, lecherous, straightening his spine to look at Louis. “Would you swear on that?”

Harry had a fuzzy feeling going through his spine, a bit merciless under the influence, both of marijuana and Louis’ dark eyes devouring him.

“No,” Louis confessed. “Come here,” he tapped his own thigh twice.

“Hmmm,” Harry twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “Why?”

“You’re smarter than that.”

“But here?” he giggled again, throwing his head back.

“Nobody will notice us,” Louis promised, eyeing Harry’s collarbones, “as long as you’re quiet.”

Without saying anything, Harry popped two buttons of his shirt open. Then, he climbed onto Louis’ lap, bracketing his thighs. The swing swayed a bit from his lack of balance, but he managed it.

He whispered in Louis’ ear, “Quiet isn’t my forte.”

Usually, Louis would put him back in his place with a firm grip around his neck and a warning. He had always been diligent in suppressing Harry’s brattiness, which led to both of them being satisfied. 

However, nothing could have prepared him for how Harry’s hardened nipples looked under his sheer shirt, with his fancy ascot tightened around his neck. As if that wasn’t enough to break a man, Harry’s eyes were glassy and droopy and he had an unwavering vampire grin on his mouth.

“I don’t mind loud either,” Louis gave in, frustrated at the growing tightness in his trousers.

“You're predictable,” Harry moaned, his eyes half lidded, as he rocked down on Louis’ crotch, using his shoulders for leverage. The friction between leather and denim was brutal and Harry was sure he could come like that.

“I was right, though.”

Harry nibbled at his ear, still incapable of containing the giggles, coming up his throat like hiccups, unstoppable, “Were you?”

“Yeah,” Louis exhaled, already completely hard. “You’re a bad boy.”

At that, Harry whined low in his throat.

Before Louis could even think about popping his trousers open and giving him a handy, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Shit. Hold on, Harry,” he lifted his hips, ignoring his grunts of protest as he fished out the cellphone. “Hello?”

“Mate, where the fuck are you?!” Oliver asked, the music blasting in the background. “Cal passed out, I need your help!”

Louis’ heart started to hammer against his ribs, panic rising in his throat. “Harry and I are on our way,” he promised, hanging up.

“We are?” Harry pouted, kissing Louis’ lips properly for the first time in days. He sucked on his lower lip slowly, too hungry for more.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t sleep with Louis anymore and he was really committed to it. Actually, he kept his word for exactly twelve days, because he was counting it. But he couldn’t stay away.

“Yeah,” Louis lamented, kissing his cheek. “Cal can’t handle his alcohol, apparently," he sugarcoated it, knowing his friend was, most likely, on psychedelics. 

Harry gasped, unaware Louis went through this with Calvin almost every time they partied. “Oh, no! Do we have to call for an ambulance?”

“No, silly,” Louis laughed. “He probably just needs some sugar.”

Harry nodded, a bit horrified, as he hopped off Louis’ lap. He stood up, trembling on his feet.

“Easy there,” Louis held him, lacing an arm across his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Wait. I have a joke,” Harry’s dimples came to life, awfully deep. “What’s the difference between me and this ascot?” he untied it from his own neck and tied it around Louis’, loving how it made his collarbones look.

“I have no clue,” Louis indulged him. “What is it?”

“I sit a bit higher on your face,” he cackled loudly, barely being able to stand on his feet.

Louis snorted, holding him up, “You’re quite the funny man.”

“I’m sleepy.”

“I can only imagine. I’ll just check on Cal and then take you home, alright?”

Harry cracked up again, supporting most of his weight on Louis. “Are you going to stay the night?”

“If you want me to,” Louis shrugged, faking nonchalance as they walked back into the house.

Selfishly, Harry was glad they had to leave and help Calvin. Deep down, if he spent another five minutes alone with Louis, he knew he wouldn’t have stopped himself.

Later, after they ended the party and pretty much forced everyone out, Louis made sure Calvin was alright and headed to Harry’s place.

“God, I just want to sleep for hours,” Harry complained, throwing himself on the bed, trying his best to ignore how hard his cock was.

Louis agreed, taking off Harry’s heeled boots so he could lay down properly, “Let’s get you out of these clothes, at least.”

“You’re just making up reasons to undress me,” Harry laughed, hiding his face in his forearm.

“If you’re fine with sleeping in leather, be my guest.”

Harry frowned, like he wanted to cry. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t want me.”

Louis took his own clothes off quickly, tossing them around the room. Just in his underpants, he laid beside Harry, sliding under the bed sheets.

“Both of us should shower,” he commented with no real intentions of getting up.

With a sly smile, Harry scooted closer, looking up at Louis with red rimmed eyes. “Did you miss my bed?”

“Yeah. Missed you naked in it too.” He undid the rest of the buttons in Harry’s shirt, baring his chest. “Get your trousers off,” he commanded, knowing very well Harry would get a rash if he slept in those.

“Why? Are you going to fuck me?” he teased, running a finger through Louis’ torso.

“No.”

“Why not?” he shimmied out of his trousers either way.

“You’re just high and saying things you don’t mean. Go to sleep.”

Harry lobbed his clothes across the room with anger. Then, he laid down with his back turned to Louis so he wouldn’t look at him.

“Giving me the silent treatment, are you?” Louis rolled his eyes.

No reply.

“What did I do now?”

“You don’t get it,” Harry mumbled. “You’re my best friend. You know me better than anyone. You’re the only constant thing in my life. And you still don’t get it.”

“Not in the mood for your jibber-jabber, Harry,” Louis sighed. He reached out for him, spooning his back with his chin on the crook of his shoulder. His body was warm and soft, always pliant under his fingertips. “Can we sleep?” Louis whispered. “It’s pretty fucking late.”

“I have to study tomorrow,” he agreed, sniffling a bit.

“Sweet dreams.”

* * *

When Louis woke up the next day, Harry wasn’t beside him anymore. It took him a while to realise the light on his eyes was from the ajar window and that Harry was studying at his desk.

Louis stared at his silhouette. He had some shorts and a pink top on and his curls were damp from a recent shower. Louis’ eyes traced him carefully – his slim neck, broad shoulders, long arms. He worked skilfully, turning the page of his thick book every now and then, his attention never faltering.

“Hey, you,” Louis chimed in.

“Oh, hi,” Harry turned around to face him, pencil still in hand from taking notes. “Good afternoon, Lou.”

“What are you wearing?”

He stretched the top so Louis could see the drawing on it, a carrot. “It’s a _crop_ top,” he chuckled, “get it?”

Louis fully laughed, “How smart of you.”

“Thanks. Got it at a thrift shop for two quid,” he grinned proudly.

Louis mustered some strength and sat up straight against the headboard. His hangover was unbearable, jackknifing his eye sockets. “Should have woken me up. I don’t like leaving you alone.”

“It’s okay. I really needed to catch up with studying anyway. There’s some Advil over there,” Harry pointed at the nightstand, where a glass of water stood alongside the pill. 

“Thanks, love,” he took it, chugging the glass down. “What time is it?”

“Just past two.”

“And how long have you been sitting there for?” Louis reprimanded.

“A while,” Harry laughed. “I have to finish this chapter, but I can’t understand a word of what I’m reading anymore. I bought a highlighter this month, but I already need a new one.”

“Maybe, you’re highlighting things that aren’t that important.”

Harry hummed in consideration, trying not to dwell too much in the connotations of the sentence. 

“Lie down with me for a bit,” Louis said.

“I really shouldn’t,” Harry fidgeted with the pencil, but still didn’t gather enough courage to turn his back to Louis. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“What about it?”

“For being embarrassingly high and horny,” he contained a self-deprecating cackle.

“I don’t mind it. You should know that by now, considering we’ve been fucking for two months.”

Harry went quiet. He placed the pencil on the desk carefully, standing up from the chair. His bare feet made no sound at all when they touched the floor.

Looking at Louis in his bed made heat stir beneath his breastbone, like he belonged there. The feeling was awfully familiar, of course, because the truth was that they had been in each other’s orbit all their lives.

“Is that all we’re doing?” he asked, no emotion in his voice at all. “Fucking?”

Louis felt like this was a trap, like he shouldn’t have worded it like he did. Harry was giving him the same look he had given him on the swing, loaded with expectations. Louis wanted to kiss his scowl away.

“It’s not,” he confessed.

Harry walked over to the bed, treading the water between them, “What would you call it, then?”

“Is that important to you?”

“Yes. And I don’t like when you answer my questions with other questions,” he scrambled to get on the bed, sitting on his calves. “It drives me nuts.”

“I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s not just fucking,” Louis reassured him.

Harry scooted even closer to him, admiring the tiny freckles on his skin.

“You’re my boy,” Louis continued. “You always have been.”

As soon as the words left Louis’ mouth, Harry flushed entirely, the blush on his cheeks erupting like an angry volcano, colouring all the way down his chest. His heart started to rabbit in his chest, trying to fathom what was happening.

“I am,” he agreed, a little breathless. “I just didn’t think you’d ever say it.”

“You’re too special,” Louis took his hand, slowly kissing his knuckles, “you’re too much of a part of me. I never want to stain it.”

And Harry felt the same way, like bringing feelings into the mix would jinx it all. “Do you regret it? Kissing me two months ago?” he asked, too scared of the answer he could get.

“Never,” Louis enunciated. “Do you regret kissing me back?”

Harry shook his head quickly, “Been wanting you since forever.”

“Forever is a big word,” Louis booped his nose.

“That’s why I chose it.”

Louis let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as all the doubts in his mind fell into the ground, one by one. “You told me we wouldn’t do this anymore. What changed your mind?”

“Lou…” Harry grunted and fell on Louis’ chest, laying his head on his bare skin, wanting to absorb some comfort. “I just…” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“You don’t want to fuck up and lose me,” Louis completed easily, because it was as clear as day.

Harry just sniffled quietly on his chest – a silent agreement.

“I’m with you, Harry,” Louis ruffled his curls, “Whatever we are.”

Harry shook his head, “Every time I get used to something, it fades away from me. I’m too attached to you. I didn’t think I could need you any more than I already did,” he looked up at Louis, his tired eyes keeping him at bay, “but I guess I do.”

“You’re a fool if you think you’re the one who’s attached. I got my teeth in you.”

Harry gulped. There was excitement buzzing under his skin, but also so much fear – of letting go and falling to the point of no return. Having Louis in his bed telling him things he had dreamed of listening was surreal, like he could wake up from it any second. It should feel fragile, but it didn’t. It had never felt so permanent.

“Don’t tell me these things if they’re not true. Because I will believe them,” he whispered, voice wavering. "And I wouldn't forgive you if you lied."

“I’d never lie to you,” Louis promised, leaving a slow peck on Harry’s forehead. “I’m a bit all over the place, but you cool me down.”

“Yeah?”

Louis nodded once, “My perfect silence.”

Harry cried a single tear, that ran across his cheekbone and down his chin like a river. It was a cry of relief. The heat under his breastbone had turned into a thunder, a sea storm of a dreamlike ecstasy flowing through his veins.

“I need your hands on me,” he pleaded.

Smiling so big his cheeks were hurting, Louis dried Harry’s tear with his thumb. He kissed his lips carefully, as if they were made of tempered glass, burning beneath his own. 

“Let me take care of you,” he said, voice an octave lower.

Harry did, lying down, curls surrounding his face like a halo.

“Are you scared?” Louis asked, unsure of how he felt about having sex with both of their feelings out in the open.

“I thought I’d be, but I’m not.”

“Let’s take it slow?”

“Slow and steady,” Harry agreed with a shy smile.

Half an hour later, he was just in his crop top and on all fours with Louis’ tongue deep inside of him, precisely how he had been craving for exactly thirteen days.

He rocked his hips back into Louis’ mouth, gripping the sheets as his thighs burned with the harshness of Louis’ scruff. 

“No high will ever feel this good,” he moaned, disregarding his weed experience.

“If I make you come three times,” Louis proposed, “you won’t study for the rest of the day. Deal?”

Scandalised, Harry looked back at him. “Three– three times?”

“Don’t play coy,” Louis kneaded the inside of his thigh. “I know you can handle it.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shivery, “okay.”

Given permission, Louis spit on two of his own fingers and teased Harry’s hole with them. He didn’t realise how much he missed everything about it. Harry’s rhythmic moans were echoing in the bedroom and Louis was eager to coax more and more out of him, destroying his addiction to self control little by little.

Scissoring his fingers, Louis found Harry to be as tight as ever, paired with utter desperation. Louis’ cock was throbbing inside his underpants at the sight of Harry’s limp knees.

“God… I don’t– don’t know how you do this to me,” Harry whined, face shoved in his pillow as he arched his back.

Smartly, Louis reached for his most sensitive spot, fingering him quickly. It burned like hell, not enough and too much at the same time, the precise kind of angry fix Harry needed.

“‘Cause I know you better than anyone," he used Harry's own words against him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Harry started to come, staining the sheets under him as he squirmed.

“One out of three,” Louis flipped him, barely giving him time to recover, so they were face to face.

Harry’s cheeks were clammy and pink and he was panting like he had run a marathon.

“I want to break you so badly” Louis kissed him eagerly, “just to put you back together.”

“All of my shards,” Harry nodded, out of breath. “They’re yours.”

Louis eyed Harry’s body with hunger, not particularly surprised by the fact his cock was still hard and leaking or by the way his ridiculously long legs still made his stomach boil with lust.

“Do your friends know?” Harry asked, unable to stop his intrusive thought.

“They suspect it. Cal gives me shit for being soft with you and all. Proper git,” Louis chuckled, kissing Harry’s lips again.

Harry tittered under him, “I want your clothes off too. It’s not fair.”

“But it’s about you,” Louis protested, even if his underwear was tenting ridiculously.

“Yeah, and I’m saying I want to see you.” Harry glanced at the volume in Louis’ underwear, biting his lips from excitement. “Strip.”

Louis complied easily. He tugged on his cock for relief, “I’ve been wanting to have you alone for days. I can’t even– touch myself without you.”

“You’re just saying that,” Harry shook it off, absolutely unaware at how enticing and godlike he looked in his come-stained crop top.

“I fucking swear,” Louis grabbed hold of both of their hard cocks, sliding his hand up and down sloppily, “nothing compares to fucking you.”

Harry hissed, grimacing at how sensitive he felt. “Faster.”

“Jesus. Think you can come from this?”

“Maybe,” Harry closed his eyes, dropping his jaw as he focused on how badly the friction was overwhelming.

Louis sank his thumb into Harry’s slit, coaxing a whine out of him. He let go of his own cock to stroke just Harry’s, genuinely surprised at how it was already twitching in his hand. 

“I adore your body so much,” Louis panted, matching Harry’s erratic breathing, “I’ve memorised every bit.”

“Lou, please…”

Louis pitied Harry and the crease in his eyebrows as he whined. He scrambled to engulf Harry’s cock in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down. The mix of spit and come was salty and heavy on his tongue, sinfully dirty.

He hollowed his cheeks and tightened his hand grip, just how he knew Harry liked best.

So, of course Harry came again. His entire body ached, jolting as his thighs spasmed, staining his top for the second time.

“You’re– going to win this, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” Louis flaunted. “Where’s that lube you like?”

Harry just pointed at his drawer with a shaky finger, closing his eyes as the post orgasm haze washed over him. His forehead was damp with droplets of sweat and his chest was heaving desperately.

While he took some time to recover, Louis went through his drawer, retrieving the lube. It was as full as the last time he had seen it, which led him to suspect Harry probably hadn’t gotten off without him either. 

“Do you think you can handle the last round?” Louis asked, eager to push Harry’s boundaries.

Harry nodded even if he was already going soft, “Break me.”

He raised Harry’s hips to place a pillow below him for leverage and poured some lube on two of his own fingers, until Harry’s hand stopped him.

“I’m ready. I’m done waiting for you.” Harry spoke, hugging his knees close to his chest suggestively. He scrambled to engulf Louis’ hand and spread the lube on his cock. It stood thick and stone hard, its veins and redness making his mouth water.

“You’re bewitching me,” Louis mumbled as Harry stroked him, concentrating on not coming then and there. “I can’t… help myself around you.”

“Prove it.”

When Louis entered Harry, they locked eyes instantly. It was rough and crude – it felt like quenching the yearning and all that absence that had been consuming both of them from the inside out. 

Harry’s body jolted with every thrust, his bed squeaking beneath him. He felt dirty and a little immoral, finally giving in to his desires, both of his body and his mind. He was already hard again, gripping Louis’ hair with both hands, highly aware of feeling something he didn’t even know how to name.

“So fucking tight. Killing me,” Louis ran his mouth, already on the edge.

Harry moaned loudly in reply as a drop of sweat ran down his temple. He clenched his ass cheeks hardly, unconsciously wanting to coax an orgasm out of Louis as well.

“Shit!” Louis sped up his moves, making the bed’s headboard hit the wall every time.

Alone in his bedroom, Harry had tried to get off only once, which resulted in frustration and an annoying cramp on his legs. With Louis, though, it was intuitive. He knew exactly how to touch him, where to kiss him and what he needed.

“You’re wondrous, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry breathed out. “And you’re about to make me come. Again.”

“Fuck, yes,” he gripped Harry’s hips, kneading the chubby strips there. 

What really drove Harry to his third climax was the way Louis’ fingertips were clawing into his skin, angry and loaded with possessiveness.

 _‘I got my teeth in you.’_ The words echoed in Harry’s ears, ringing like a rocket taking off, battering all of his uncertainties.

“God, I’m so fucking close,” Louis raggedly whispered, laying his body on top of Harry’s. “You’re burning up.”

Harry closed his eyes as Louis came inside him, pining his hips to the bed. He felt sated in a way he hadn’t in years.

Slowly, but surely, he ran his thumb across his navel, collecting some of his own come. He looked up at a panting Louis and said, “Can I swallow now?”

Louis was glad he was in bed or, otherwise, his knees would have given out. Unable to come up with words, he just nodded, dumbfounded.

With both of his dimples on display, Harry sucked on his thumb like a lollipop, his beautiful cupid’s bow puckering around it.

“Such a little tease,” Louis clicked his tongue against his teeth, falling forward to kiss Harry’s red lips.

He hissed as he pulled himself out, laying beside Harry with a loud thud. 

“Lou. Do you own a chicken farm or something?” Harry teased with a warmly familiar glint in his big green eyes.

“Chicken farm? Why?”

“Because you sure know how to raise a cock.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hid his face in Harry’s neck, hating that the joke was actually funny, “you’re terminally lame.”

“You get off on it.”

“I do, actually,” he guffawed softly.

A beat passed and he moved Harry’s curls out of his sweaty forehead.

“And I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t found you,” he completed, a tad embarrassed by his confession.

Harry tried to choke down the feeling of urge to reciprocate it somehow, trembling for more reasons than he could fathom. 

“Want to order takeout?” he asked instead.

Louis raised one eyebrow in disbelief. 

“I know, I was a bit of a plonker last time. I don’t mind takeout. Actually, that place has the best spring rolls I’ve ever had,” he swore, raising his hands, looking for redemption.

“You’re not a plonker,” Louis’ expression was serious. “You’re just afraid of letting go.”

“Not when I’m in bed with you, apparently,” Harry mumbled, unamused.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Harry gulped. “I know.”

“And you can’t study for the rest of the day. ‘Cause I won the bet.”

“I know.”

“And I’m quite sure I’m merciless falling in love with you.”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he stared into the candidness of Louis’. His heart was racing, but his lips were curved into a silly smile.

“I know,” he whispered it to him, hugging him tightly, realising how foolish he was to think he could ever live without that.

That afternoon, yakisoba and spring rolls tasted better than ever – sweet and sour, out of this world and ordinary, tasting both like the comfort of home and the ecstasy of a one of a kind adventure.

* * *

The next day, they were rested and calmer, like the sea after a storm.

“You know, modern literature isn’t even my favourite.”

“Really?” Louis smiled, indulging Harry as the rain poured outside his bedroom window.

“Totally. Some authors from the Heian or even the Meiji period really resonate with me, though.” Harry didn’t look up as he took notes in his very neat handwriting, taking the time to pen each letter.

Louis noticed he had made flash cards sorted by colour according to each period. It was a bit silly, how he coordinated them with gel pens and how he still drew his dots like little hearts, even years later.

“Like whom?”

“Narihira,” he raised his eyebrows. “He was a poetic genius, you know.”

“One of your kind, then. Do you know anything he has written by heart?”

“Hmmm. I do. I wouldn’t want to bore you with it, though,” he held back a smile when he noticed Louis had his face in his hands, solely watching him.

“I could listen to you talk for hours.”

Harry seemed to think for a few seconds, placing his gel pen on the desk.

“Is that not the moon? And is the spring not the spring of a year ago?”

Louis shifted, almost sure he could see the imagery reflected in Harry’s eyes – cherry trees swaying, bright and pink, and the veil of a blue moon reflected on an even bluer river.

“This body of mine alone remains, as it was before,” Harry concluded his quote. “That’s it. It's awfully short, but there's something about the atmosphere of it that compels me.”

“Is that how you feel?” Louis licked his lips, looking for better words. “Alone?”

“Once upon a time.” He picked up his pen again, moving to the next flash card. “Not anymore.”

Louis tittered, like a small piece of charcoal was scorching inside his chest, rolling around his ribs.

“You know how Ishikawa was really well known for writing classical poetry, right?” Harry continued, twirling his gel pen in his fingers, enthusiastic.

“Not at all, but carry on.”

“Well, can you believe he wrote his diaries in Latin so his wife couldn’t read them?” he shook his head in disbelief. "He was a poet, for God's sake!"

Louis hummed quietly, just the sound of the gentle rain lulling both of them. “Everyone has secrets, I suppose.”

“Would you not want to bare your soul to the one you love?”

“I already do.”

Harry flushed, dropping his pen on the floor. He wanted to say something, anything, but the warmth of Louis’ adoration numbed him to the point of paralysis.

He reached for Louis’ hand across the table, entangling their fingers in a strong grip.

For the rest of the day, Harry studied in silence while Louis caressed his calves with his own. Harry was wearing green socks with frills on them and, every time they brushed against Louis’ skin, it tickled. They both smiled at it, stuck on the bloom of their own spring.

The charcoal was turning into a bonfire.

* * *

“You will do just fine, trust me. You got every question from your flash cards right.”

“I can’t remember anything!” Harry gripped his hair, standing outside his university as the other students passed him by on their way in.

Louis had driven him there because Harry insisted he needed to revise on the way. His eye bags were deep and purple and he had had more coffee than one should have in a week.

“Harry, this is your last test this semester. You read it all, several times. You're prepared.” Louis held his face with both hands. “You’re going to ace this.”

“I am?”

“You are. And I love you.”

The world beneath them shifted, like a little landslide causing an avalanche. Harry’s pupils grew wide and the test anxiety turned into mere background noise. 

“You do? You love me?” the excitement rose in his tone.

“So much it makes me panic if I think about it.”

Harry stood there, on the verge of an anxiety attack, at a loss for words, even though he knew so many.

“Go get them,” Louis kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here to pick you up for lunch.”

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

* * *

“And you’re never going to guess what the essay was about!” Harry shoved a french fry in his mouth.

“Tell me,” Louis chuckled. 

“Narihira! What are the odds?” he dipped another fry into some mayonnaise, delighted.

“You’ve got a talent for these kinds of things. You’re gonna be a superstar teacher.”

Harry frowned, “I’m scared of graduating. I don’t feel ready.”

“Sometimes, you just have to go for it, ready or not.”

“You really think so?”

Louis nodded, taking a bite of his burger, “You’ll be ready when you’re there.”

“I don’t know how you manage to be in between jobs. I would lose my mind.”

“No shit,” Louis laughed. “Yeah, you crave some stability and whatnot.”

“What are you thinking next?”

“I wanna save up. Get a long term job for once. Buy a bigger place.”

Harry munched, “Anything in mind?” 

“A bookshop, maybe? That way, I wouldn’t be totally helpless when we talk about your favourite authors,” he shrieked. “I’d even be able to reserve you some books if you ever needed it. I could lend you my super rad librarian card so you could take them home too, free of charge. Cool, huh?”

“I love you,” Harry blurted out, exactly how he had rehearsed his entire life.

“I know,” Louis smirked. “And you have mayo on your chin.”

* * *

It took some time for Harry to get used to the thought he wanted to be in a relationship with his best friend. When he told his family, however, nobody batted an eye.

One year and a half later, Harry graduated and got his diploma. He applied for a job at local high school soon after, to work as a Literature teacher. The routine was rough, but he found joy and realisation every time one of his students asked for a book recommendation or stayed to ask questions during break time. He saw his younger self in their glimmery eyes, fascinated by the endless worlds of fiction the human mind could come up with.

Louis got a new job too, at a library four blocks away from Harry, and was promoted to general manager eventually. He kept his promise, choosing a book per month to surprise Harry with. At that point, he had learned most big authors and had immersed into the habit of reading himself.

When they moved in together, their tiny loft had to have a big bookshelf, and a proper balcony, where they would chat, water their flowers and smoke a blunt every now and then – which Harry quickly excelled himself at, like at everything else he did in life. Then, late at night when the heat would grow its horns, they would make filthy love against the large windows, mixing their moans with the faint sounds of the slumberous city below them.

“What do you want to do today?” Harry would ask every weekend, after he had gotten up at the crack of dawn to grade his students’ tests. He would glue a coloured sticker on every single one of them, eager to inspire his little rookie readers.

“To walk side by side with you, up and down the staircases of the world,” Louis answered one day.

Harry gasped loudly, slapping his shoulder, “I can’t believe you read Samsa in Love and didn’t tell me!”

“You know me from the inside out,” Louis held his wrists, pining his body against the wall as they laughed, “I have to find unusual ways to surprise you!”

“You always surprise me!” Harry swore, looking especially cozy in his pajamas as his heart rate was rapid fire with adoration.

“Gotta stop blushing like that, love. Don’t be surprised when you get bent over the kitchen table.”

They kissed for hours, their particular spring fully bloomed around them, pink sakura flowers turning into mellow and pulpy cherries.

Slowly, they grew even further into one another. Two different kinds of tenderness and boldness, wrapped up tight in the seams of Harry’s eternally juvenile heart, where Louis had sunk his teeth into long ago, when they were yet to find out this kind of love was already star-crossed, heavenbound.

* * *

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading it! If you liked it, don't forget to leave me kudos and, if you're super nice, a comment. You can reblog the fic's post [here](https://hershelsue.tumblr.com/post/644330255526543360/got-my-teeth-in-you-9k-e-by-docklands) and talk to me [here](https://hershelsue.tumblr.com/ask). ♡


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